Once Upon A Time oneshots
by QueenoftheQueenies
Summary: MadSwan/SheriffSwan/WoodenSwan TEHE. Haven't seen the latest season so bear with me. These are just some oneshots thrown you're way that are pretty ting. Whatever that means. Kids these days, huh?
1. Lock Me Up

_** Lock Me Up**_

"You're under arrest," Emma barks gruffily.

Jefferson puts up no restraint as Emma jerks his arms backwards to cuff him. Instead he just grins devlishly. "And for what reason?"

Emma hesitates. There's no real solid reason for her to be arresting him. But after two weeks of him lurking silently, always in the shadows, following her - she's had enough. It's too much for her to handle.

"I don't need to explain my actions to you. Not now," she growls quietly. She then starts off with his rights - but he just stands there, relaxed as ever, a smirk across his face, a smirk that she itches to slap away.

"Emma... Emma? Come on Emma, you can't keep me in here forever," he laughs softly.

Rather than responding to the clearly insane man, Emma finds her face almost pressed into the desk as she struggles to focus on the paperwork before her. She swallows hard.

"Emma... Little White Swan, talk to me," he coos softly.

Finally she snaps and jerks upright, stalking across to him. She slams her hands to the bars either side of him but he doesn't flinch, just continues to lean lazily against them, arms resting on the bars.

"Stop it. Can't you see I'm trying to work?"

He shrugs. "It's boring in here."

"It's a cell. Of course it's going to be boring."

She goes to turn away, flinging her arms out with her frustration with the irritating man - and then something unexpected happens. A hand, solid and burning hot, clamps down around one of her wrists and jerks her a step back against the cell. Then another hand wraps around her other wrist.

Jefferson then pulls her arms backwards through the bars of the cell, crossing them almost painfully. She winces slightly, his breath warm and imposing against her ear.

"I don't know what you're doing but stop it," she whispers feircely, refusing to show fear.

He tugs a little harder on her arms and she lets out a small noise of pain, slipping out through gritted teeth. He leans his face against the bars so that his breath is warm and louder in her ear.

"Emma. You have to believe."

"Shut up," she mutters weakly.

"Why do you fight it?"

"Because it's ridiculous," she laughs but it's faint.

"Is it really that ridiculous? Think about it," he murmurs, his voice warm and close.

Even through the bars, she imagines she can feel the heat from his body. How nice it would be, to be absorbed within that heat. To be held. When was she ever held? Held properly? Not for a long time. Not even with Graham. She swallows uncomfortably.

"You're insane."

He jerks on her arms once more and she rises on her tip toes, crying out in pain. She tries to pull away but he refuses to let go, his grip tight and unrelenting.

"I am not insane, Miss. Swan. I'm far from it. I'm right and you know I am."

She closes her eyes when his teeth latch onto her ear lobe, tugging on it gently. The heat that sears through her body makes her weak.

"Stop!" She pleads softly.

He presses a kiss to her cheek, tongue darting out to caress her warm skin. She lets out a soft sigh of pleasure.

"Open the cell door Emma," he demands, his voice husky and hoarse.

"No," she's determinded to defy him.

"Yes."

He lets her go and she jerks away, rubbing at her wrists. His eyes are deliciously dark, enticing and beautiful. He still leans against the bars and despite how her mind screams at her to say no, to walk away, she finds herself walking back towards the cell, her fingers trembling as she pulls out the cell key. She hesitates for a moment and he reaches through the cage. He toys with her hair, calloused fingers gentle, causing a shudder to spiral through her.

She unlocks the cell door.

As soon as it opens, his hand is around her wrist that holds the key. He jerks her close and she drops it. His lips are feverish, burning hot - hotter than seems possible. Like the heat from his body. It envelops her, drags her in. Her mind screams at her, roars at her to stop - and yet she continues, becoming lost in his kisses.

He kicks the cell door shut, slamming her against it and she groans loudly, clinging to him. She runs her fingers through his thick hair, revelling in its softness.

"I'm not insane Emma," he says against her lips, his voice low and warm.

She can't respond, her body attempting to deal with the assault on her senses.

His lips trail from hers, down her neck. He sucks softly and she clings to his shoulders, panting loudly as she struggles to control herself. But his touch makes her react like she's never reacted before.

"Tell me Emma," he commands.

"Wha-?" She can't finish the word, his deliciously expert lips and warm mouth makning it impossible to form coherent thoughts.

"I'm not insane," he growls, pulling back.

"You're..." She swallows heavily, her heart racing. His eyes, so deep, so intense and burning, controlling... "You're not insane."

He grins victoriously and leans in to kiss her again. This time, his hands wrap around her thighs, causing her insides to clench tight and flip a hundred times over. He drops her onto the bed, standing above her momentarily.

"You Miss. Swan - you're mine tonight," he growls, a grin still covering his face.

One look into those wicked eyes and Emma closes her eyes, a sense of warmth filling her from head to toe.


	2. Chemistry

** Chemistry**

I swallow hard as he walks towards me. There's something so graceful about his movements, like those of a jungle cat. Totally aware of the space surrounding him and the dominance he has over the situation.

I back up, one step at a time. There's something about the glint in his eyes, michevious and dangerous, alight with amusement. It's the look of a crazy man. It makes me nervous.

"You know what the issue is with this world?" He asks softly. My back hits the shelves of hats and I don't respond.

"Everyone wants a magical solution for their problems and everyone refuses to believe in magic."

He stands just an inch away, his toes almost pressing against mine. I struggle to breathe as a small smile passes across his wickedly curved lips.

"So Emma, tell me this... do you think I'm crazy?" He asks softly.

He raises a hand to brush a strand of hair gone awry off my face. His fingers are surprisingly gentle and soft. I try not to tremble in response to his touch,

"Completely and utterly," I growl weakly.

He laughs, low and intamite, enough to send a shiver through me. "Oh little Swan. Don't you understand? You're the crazy one. Crazy because you won't open your eyes and look around you. You can't open yourself to the truth."

"It's not truth, it's not anything but a part of your wild and insane imagination. You're worse than Henry for god-sake, come on, I mean -"

He places a hand over my mouth, eyes hard and slightly narrowed. His skin is warm against my lips and I fight the temptation to bite into the skin in the hopes of being released.

He tuts softly. "Now, now Emma. Your son, Henry, is closer to the truth than you could ever even begin to realise."

I glare at him, trying to control the racing thumping of my heart within my chest.

"I've watched you for a long time Emma," he murmurs, eyes growing warm. "Just like many other times in my life I've had to sit on the outside, always watching in. But no more. I'm sick of being excluded, an outsider."

"You're crazy," I try to say, but it comes out mumbled. He may not be able to comprehend the words, but I guarentee he know's exactly what I said.

He laughs again. Deliciously inviting, warm and a tad bit insane. "Don't you understand Emma? You're special. You can break this curse."

I shove him away suddenly and although he doesn't step back or even try to give me any space, his hand does drop. "Just shut up! God damn it just shut the hell up! I can't take this anymore, it's driving me -"

"Insane?" He asks, eyebrow arched perfectly.

Anger bubbles beneath the surface. "Yes! It's driving me insane! Just let me and Mary Margret go or I swear I'll -"

"Do what? Arrest me?" He grins, his eyes darting down to my lips. "No, because then you'd have to explain about Mary Margret escaping from Jail."

"Just stop interupting me!" I snap, flushing slightly. "Let me talk for a change, okay? I'm sick to death of all this. I don't even know why I'm here, why aren't I tied up? Why are there so many hats in here? Do you have some kind of sick collective habit or something? Why did you kidnap us? Why -"

"Enough," he growls suddenly and his lips are against mine.

I'm surprised to say the least. But that's all I have time to feel because his lips claim my roughly, his impatience evident from the pressure he uses in the kiss. I find myself grasping at him, my hands bunching in the material of his shirt beneath his thick jacket.

His arms are around me, pulling me into his intoxicating warmth as he breaks me down with his tongue and teeth, causing my knees to go weak and my limbs to feel like jelly. I can barely hold myself up. I just can't get enough of him.

He nips at my lower lip, a sound like distant thunder echoing from the back of his throat as his hands suddenly wrap under my thighs, lifting me up and resting me on one of the shelves. I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing his body close to mine so that I can get as close as possible.

"Emma..." He growls, pulling back to nuzzle in my neck.

I press against him lips presses kisses to his cheek and chin, sliding my tongue along the warmth of his delicious skin. His scent makes me breathless, musky and strong - oddly enough, it reminds me of the woods, the forest. It just makes me cling to him more.

"I've wanted you for so long..." He whispers, lips claiming mine once more, rough and possessive. "Ever since you first arrived."

I pull back for breath, raise a hand and caress his cheek. He shudders beneath my touch and I lean in to whisper sweet words of release. "Then have me."

The world fades into nothingness as he kisses me once more, everything forgotten - including a very unfortunate Mary Margret.


	3. Bittersweet

_** Bittersweet**_

"So if I go here..." Emma trails off as the map before her begins to swirl and distorts.

"Something wrong?" Jefferson esquires softly as she grips the edges of the piano tighter.

"Uh... I..." She struggles to form coherent words as the room sways.

He moves silently behind her, catching her as she falls backwards. His arms wrap around her waist, easily holding up the petitie blonde. She tilts her head back, a small groan emitting from between her lips. Without meaning to, her lips brush along his stubbled cheek, causing him to let out a soft, shuddering breath.

He tilts his head to the side, breath hot against her ear. "Shh... take it easy. It's okay."

His voice is soothing as he walks backwards slowly, taking her with him.

"Dizzy," she gasps as she clings to his arms around her.

"I know, I know. You're okay. Let's just set you down here," he whispers softly in her ear, his voice lulling her, chasing the panic away.

In her dazed, confused state of being, when he sets her down, she clings to him, letting out a small squeak of fear, pulling him forward slightly. His hands rest on either side of her head, holding his weight up as her hands fist tightly into the material of his shirt. The warmth emitting from her body is enough to be his undoing.

"Emma, you need to let go of me," he breathes gently.

"No..." She groans, eyes struggling to remain open. "There's something... something familiar about you."

He stiffens and swallows past a lump in his throat. "Familiar how?"

She doesn't respond for a second, instead raises a hand to trail down his roughened cheek, the stubble tickling her fingertips. She carresses the sweet curve of his upper lip and he closes his eyes momentarily as a shudder wracks his body.

"I know your face as well as I know my own. As well as I know Henry's. As well as I know my mother and fathers."

His eyes snap open as her hand drops, shock minging within the depts of his eyes. "Mother and father - you remember them?"

She moans softly, shifting beneath him, causing him a slight discomfort.

"Emma? Do you remember them?" He repeats, giving her a soft shake. But it's too later, the drugs have taken their toll, she's out cold.

He sighs heavily. So close. He bends down and presses a soft, chaste kiss to her lips, teasing himself painfully. Bittersweet. It's heart-wrenching pain. She's so close and yet she remembers nothing.

She has forgotten her mother and father, the king and queen. She has forgotten how the evil queen was cast out and how this was her revenge. That none of us would have happy endings. She has forgotten him, Jefferson, the love of her life. She has forgotten it all and it burns within him, makes him more angry.

When she awakens, she'll make a hat. She won't believe him, won't believe the truth, but she'll make it. If he forces her. There's no way to ask Emma something nicely. Once she's skeptical of it, it takes a lot of convincing.

He looks back at her. She looks angelic, sleeping silently. He chews on his lower lip, hard enough to almost make it bleed. With a groan he presses another famished kiss to her willing lips and then violently jerks himself away. No, now's not the time for kissing. No matter how much he wants it. No matter how much he misses it.

He clambers to his feet and makes his way to the draw for duct tape. When Emma awakens, she will make a hat - and she'll make a hat that works.


End file.
